The Worst of Luck
by TotalFanGirl221B
Summary: Martin's ill - probably pneumonia, thinks Douglas - but insists on flying the plane because he is, of course, fine. Unfortunately, Martin is not the luckiest of people and just gets worse and worse as the flight goes on, despite trying his best to keep himself from doing so. Luckily for him, Douglas Richardson is on hand. Enjoy! :) (No pairings)
1. Chapter 1

**Here is my first ever Cabin Pressure fic! Hope you like it! Sick!Fic. Mainly because I've been quite ill recently, and because I like sick!fics. Guilty pleasure of mine. Anyway, I don't really know where this is going to go yet. I mean, I have a few ideas... What will make it into the story though you'll have to wait and see :) Do enjoy, and please leave reviews because they really mean a lot and I've spent a lot of time on this. Even if you hate it. Thanks :) **

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><p>Martin rolled slowly over in bed as he moaned in pain. Shielding his eyes from the light that shone from his window early in the morning, he groaned as he listened to the constant high pitched screech his alarm clock made. His head ached as if somebody had been throwing bricks at it all night, and his throat was dry and sore, leaving him barely able to make a whisper.<p>

He slammed his arm down on the alarm quickly, silencing it as he tried to force himself up. His body tried to fight him; it didn't have neither the strength nor the energy to even sit on the edge of the bed, let alone drag himself from it, get in the car, go to work and fly a plane for six hours. Especially when he had Douglas Richardson as his first officer. However, Martin was not one to call in sick from work. He was someone who was determined to do the job, even if he did it terribly. _I don't do a terrible job. _He thought to himself, knowing if Douglas or Carolyn had heard him say that they would have some sarcastic reply suggesting otherwise.

After he managed to almost crawl across the attic, he got changed and made himself a quick glass of water and taking some paracetamol before heading out the door. He shut the van door after fiddling with the keys for a few minutes before being able to start it. He could barely concentrate on anything at the moment with the pounding coming from his head. He'd been feeling ill for a week, at least, now and today was even worse. Unfortunately, he didn't have the money to take time off and therefore wasn't going to miss a day of work, even though he didn't get paid for one of his jobs.

Stumbling in, he managed to throw himself down onto the chair in the portakabin before sliding down comfortably in it and closing his eyes. Well, as comfortable as he was going to get. Nobody was in yet. Douglas was likely to be on his way in a few minutes, and Carolyn was probably just setting off. So, he didn't bother to wonder why Carolyn continued to arrive late to her own meetings, but instead enjoyed the peacefulness of the empty portakabin for a few moments. The only thing that he hated was the fact that it was almost ice cold in there, and that didn't help when he was most likely coming down with the flu. His body shivered as he wrapped his arms closer together and tried to bring most of his body inwards, trying to get as hot as he possibly could.

Just as he began to finally get cosy and almost fell asleep, the door swung open and hit the wall aggressively. Martin opened his eyes quickly and flinched. As he focused his eyes on the figure stood by the door, he noticed it to be the first officer who was now staring at his captain in a rather peculiar way. Douglas noticed the paleness of Martin's face which was even whiter than usual; he noticed how his hair stuck to his forehead because of sweat; then there was the shivering; and finally, he noticed the cough that had interrupted as he looked Martin up and down. He listened to his friend almost cough up his lungs as he attempted to breathe in between coughs.

"Are you alright, _Sir?_" he asked, speaking with more concern in his tone than arrogance. Martin groaned a little, trying to imply he wasn't up for questions or any noise as it hurt is head. He lay his arms across the table in front of him and gently placed his head into them, attempting to block out any sound there was and get some sleep. Unfortunately, the first officer was a lot more persistent than Martin thought he would be, and continued to question his captain. Even if that meant having to raise his voice a little so that Martin could hear. "Have you seen a doctor yet?" Martin shook his head angrily, wishing Douglas would just leave him alone. "Why?" there was the concerned tone again. "You look like death himself!" Martin ignored him completely, trying to block him out. Douglas sighed impatiently and went over, placing the back of his hand on Martin's forehead as best as he could. "You're burning up." Douglas shook his head seeming worried. "Wait here." He spoke after a slight pause. Martin sighed with relief as he heard the door quietly close behind the first officer. Finally. Peace and quiet. Now he could get a little bit of rest before the flight ahead.

He nuzzled his head closer into his arms when he heard the door swing open again. He almost cried due to the bang as it hit the wall hard, and then because he was no longer alone. "Sorry," he heard the soft tone of Douglas beside him. "If sir could pick his head up for a moment, it would be hugely appreciated." The sarcastic tone had returned. Yet, even that seeped with concern at that point in time. Douglas rolled his eyes as Martin refused to do as asked, and so he tried to bring it up himself. Martin shook his hand off of his shoulder and buried his head deeper into his little arm nest sort of thing. "Martin, you can either let me do this, or I will force you to let me do this. Either way, it will result in me taking your temperature." Martin moaned a little, but eventually complied with it and picked his head up feebly. Just holding his head up ached, and Douglas could see this. "It won't take a minute." Martin was surprised with the way Douglas was acting; he was trying to be reassuring, yet still showed concern. That didn't seem like the Douglas Richardson he had gotten to know so well.

Douglas took the thermometer out of his captain's mouth after forty seconds and read the screen, his eyes opening wider as he saw how high the reading was. Martin tried to peer over Douglas to see what it read, but he didn't have the energy to do so. "What… what is it?" his voice barely reaching a whisper, Martin tried to keep his eyes open. Douglas sighed and shook his head.

"You've got a fever; 41.2." Martin seemed confused as he shivered a little and then began to cough. Before saying anymore, Douglas tried to help as Martin went into another coughing fit. "You can't stay in, Martin. You need to go to the doctors or something, urgently." Even more concern.

"But I c_an't _miss today. C-Carolyn will _kill _me."

"That is true." Douglas agreed. "But I doubt she will be too keen on the idea of you passing out halfway through our flight." He thought. "Either way, she's going to kill you." Martin rolled his eyes and his head fell back onto his arms on the table.

"I-I'll be fine." He spoke quietly, not only telling Douglas, but also trying to reassure himself.

Before Douglas could argue, they were interrupted by Arthur's booming voice and Carolyn ordering him to shut up. Martin grumbled as their voices came closer and closer and they entered the portakabin. "Good morning, Carolyn." Douglas spoke smoothly. Carolyn ignored him.

"We're on a tight schedule; I need you both ready now."

"We are ready; we've been here for about ten minutes now." Douglas replied.

"I _don't care _how long you've been here, I just want you on that plane as soon as you can." Her shrill voice tearing its way through Martin's head; he had failed all attempts to try and block them out or sleep, and so he poked his head up a little. Carolyn turned to him, noticing how dreadful he looked. "What is the matter with you?" Martin flinched as she spoke.

"Captain, here, is a bit _under the weather._" Douglas spoke before Martin had the chance. Martin scowled at him a little, but not very well as he barely had the energy to do even that.

"What?" she almost shouted. "Will he be fit to fly?" Carolyn asked, Martin was annoyed a little, yet found it unsurprising that her main concern was whether he was able to do the job or not.

"I don't know," Douglas said. "He's got a temperature of 41.2."

"That's high!" Arthur interrupted from the door. He then took one look at Skip and spoke quickly again. "You look awful, Skip." Martin groaned and placed his head in his hands.

"I'm _fine!" _he grumbled. "I'll be fine to fly," he paused to cough. "Don't worry." Nobody was convinced, but as Carolyn pointed out, they didn't have time to argue about it. They knew that he would just ignore them anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

Everything was ready. The walk around had been completed and now Martin waited for Douglas to take off. However, Douglas was delaying purposefully as he watched his captain struggle to get comfortable in his seat. He could see how hard he was working to try and pretend he wasn't ill, but it just wasn't working out. Especially when he had to jump up from his seat a few minutes later to the bathroom. _Good job we're not flying yet, then. _Douglas thought to himself as Martin slammed the door behind him.

Martin placed his head quickly over the toilet and threw up the contents of his stomach which, granted, wasn't much, but it was still something. He panted heavily as he eventually stopped heaving and he rested his forehead on the side of the toilet. A knock came from the other side of the door as he closed his eyes, blocking it out. His body weakly spread across the floor as he managed to move his head to rest onto the wall so he would be a little bit more comfortable. Only a little.

"Why aren't we moving?" Douglas heard Carolyn making her way in. Before he had a chance to respond, she noticed the empty seat and looked back to him. "Where's Martin?"

"In there." he spoke, indicating to the bathroom door.

"What's he doing in _there?_"

"Well," Douglas started sarcastically. Carolyn shook her head before he had the chance and made her way to the door. She knocked quietly and called his name.

"Martin? Martin, what are you doing?" she spoke sternly, but the only response was more coughing from the other side.

"It seems our illustrious captain is rather sick." Douglas spoke, turning away from the door as the coughing got louder.

"Yes, it would seem so." Carolyn sighed. As much as she pretended she couldn't care less for her crew, even she felt as though they were a part of her family, and so she knew she couldn't make Martin work now. "I think you'll be doing this one on your own, Douglas."

"What?"

"Martin has to go home. He isn't fit to work." As she spoke, the door slowly opened, and Martin stumbled out looking even worse than before. "Martin," Carolyn sighed as she shook her head. Even Douglas seemed surprised as Martin leaned against the door. "You're going home."

"N-no, I'm fine." Martin coughed as he shook his head.

"You most certainly are not fine; you are quite far from fine. Now go home." Before he could argue, Martin had another coughing fit. "Martin, Douglas can fly the plane."

"Fine." Martin huffed.

After managing to drag himself into his car, Martin fumbled around as he put his keys in, ready to leave. He hated this. He already felt like a failure; now even more so as he was sent home for something that was likely just a cold or something. _Why is it always me?_ He thought to himself as he groaned, smashing his hands down onto the wheel. He had the worst of luck.

As soon as he got himself into the flat, he threw himself straight down onto the bed and collapsed. He kept his uniform on, too tired to change. He coughed a little, but soon managed to fall fast asleep after he covered himself in his thin blanket, hugging it tight around him as he was freezing cold. Finally, he could rest in peace and just let the world around him stop.

"Mum, where's Skip?" Arthur asked curiously.

"He's gone home; he's ill."

"What? Will he be alright?" Arthur spoke with a lot of concern.

"I'm sure he'll be fine. Don't worry, Arthur." She smiled comfortingly, but Arthur was far from not worrying. "We'll go and visit him as soon as we get back, okay?"

"Brilliant! I can take him some soup!"

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><p><strong>So sorry it's been so long: no internet. Anyways, here's the next chapter. And sorry for making that stupid mistake with the temp, I have corrected it now :) Reviews appreciated <strong>


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